iSketched Your Life
by Jay Petrakis
Summary: A work of art speaks a million words. That's a million more words than Sam could speak, when it came to talking about her true feelings. Seddie. Rated K , might change to T in future chapters.
1. Summer Project

**Author's Note: This started out as drabble oneshot, but I think it'll probably be a little longer than that... haha**

**Disclaimer: iCarly and all its characters copyrighted to Schneider's Bakery, Viacom, and Nickelodeon.**

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_Thursday_

_Noon_

Most of the lights in the school had been turned off. It was the middle of summer, no students roamed the hallways. Summer school already been finished with, the new year starting in less than a month. Although Autumn was near, it still felt like the middle of June.

Sam walked down the hallways, her sneakers squeaking slightly as they scraped the clean tile. She held a large sketch pad under one arm, with her backpack over her shoulder. Sam entered a dark room, flipping the lights on. Sam navigated through the now illuminated room, walking past the rows of easels to a lone cabinet, where rows of art supplies lay on its shelves.

_Acrylic? Nah. Oil? … No. Watercolor? Boring. _Sam rummaged through the cabinet, looking for a suitable media. Sam had taken up art in the previous school year, a class that she did very well in. She painted various art pieces that were hung on the walls of Ridgeway High School, her teachers seeing great promise in the young artist. Sam would often draw or paint when she was bored, never once considering it could be harnessed for something good- like an easy A on her report card.

At least, Sam _thought_ it would be an easy A. She was assigned a summer project and Sam found herself stumped. While she was good at drawing animals, an example being the majestic painting of a bulldog which hung in Ridgeway's main hall. Sam thought of it as a nice way to make a quick buck, Principal Franklin offering her $50 to do said painting. But the assigned summer project was on human anatomy.

"_Sorry, Sam. I'm swamped with AP classes this summer- I need to get a head start before senior year."_ Sam thought back to earlier that week, when she had asked her best friend to be a model. Carly was unavailable- Likewise with Spencer, for he was apparently busy with his sculpture-making.

Sam slammed the cabinet doors shut, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. "So irritating." Sam mumbled, leaning her head against the cabinet's cold metal frame. Suddenly, a loud rattling noise came from outside the room. Sam rushed into the hallways, her line of sight directing towards a small group of rowdy boys.

"Hey! What are you punks doing?" Sam hollered, noticing the boys were beating up on a nerd. _Bullies._ The boys stopped their beating, turning around to face the angry girl. Sam looked past the boys and saw that the nerd they were beating up was none other than Freddie Benson. "You guys are beating up Benson?"

The boys just laughed as Freddie cowered in fear. Sam looked at the idiotic bullies in disgust, pushing them aside. She held out her hand towards Freddie, but one of the boys stood between the two friends. He shook his head, his goonies backing him up.

"Nuh-uh. I don't think so, Sam. This nerd just _insulted_ us. We aren't letting him get away unscathed." The boy said, crossing his arms.

Sam looked up at the boy with disbelief. Partly because no one ever stood up to Sam Puckett and partly because she didn't think this idiot could pronounce the word "unscathed", let alone use it correctly in a sentence.

Freddie just stayed silent, his gaze locked on the brave girl. He was sure Sam could beat up any one of these bullies, but he was unsure how she would fare against three of them at once.

"_Look._ I _really_ don't want to make a scene. I'm already busy enough as it is and I don't want to deal with you nubs. So just let go of my nerd and be about your merry way." Sam said, shifting her balance to one side, crossing her arms.

The lead bully looked between his two buddies and grinned. "Make a scene? There isn't anyone _here_, Sam. In fact, anything we do will pretty much go without consequence," The leader of the group grinned back at his friends. "Wouldn't you say so, boys?"

Anger boiled within Sam, her hand balling up into a fist. She threw the first punch, but it was easily caught by the boy. No matter how freakishly strong Sam was, she was still a girl. As the years progressed, the boys at the school grew into men; Their strength was much more than it was when they were all in middle school.

"So boys, what're we gonna do with the _great_ Sam Puckett?" The boy grabbed Sam by her wrist, forcing her up against the lockers. The other boys just laughed along with their leader, a menacing look in their eyes. Sam struggled, kicking the boy in his jewels, _hard._ The boy tumbled over onto the floor, clutching his package.

As soon as Sam was free from the boy's grip, she walked over to the other boys and punched them each in the gut. The two toppled over, clutching their stomachs. Sam turned back to the leader, who was just getting back to his feet. He seemingly recovered from the last blow, but was a little uneasy.

"Get out of my sight." Sam barked, ready to strike again if necessary.

The leader dashed towards the door, but not before running into and pushing Sam once again into the lockers. The other boys followed right behind, afraid for their lives.

Freddie scrambled to his feet, tending to Sam. Sam just looked up and glared at Freddie, pushing him away.

"Don't touch me, Frednub." Sam rubbed the tender spot on the back of her head. "What the heck did you do to get those fudgebags angry at you, anyway?"

"They wanted me to be a tech producer for their own web series. They wanted to be popular like iCarly." Freddie started explaining. "They got angry when I refused."

Sam started walking back to the art room, Freddie following right behind. She quickly took up her sketchpad and backpack, turning to Freddie before leaving. "Go away, Fredbag. I have enough trouble looking after you as it is." Sam turned heel to leave, but Freddie quickly placed his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Wait. I just wanted to say 'thanks'. You saved me from those thugs." Freddie said sheepishly. "I owe you one, Sam."

A thought flashed in Sam's devious mind. Freddie was now indebted to her, seeing as how she saved his life and all. "You owe me one?" she said with a slight smirk.

"Totally- If you ever need me for anything, I'm your nub," joked Freddie.

Sam put her hands firmly on Freddie's shoulders, almost hurting him, a devious smile creeping onto her face. "Model for me."

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**Author's Note: Love it? Hate it? Review it.**


	2. Modeling Session?

**Author's Note: Summer days are smoldering here. I wish it were winter.**

**Disclaimer: iCarly and all its characters copyrighted to Schneider's Bakery, Viacom, and Nickelodeon.**

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Freddie fumbled for his keys, inserted the jagged end into the keyhole, opening the door. He walked in, passing through the empty living room and kitchen, going straight for his room. He threw his backpack on the floor, sighing as he fell into his bed. Today was a hot day, the heat only made Freddie's already cloudy mind cloudier.

"_Model?"_

_Sam nodded, a devilish smile still upon her face. "Yeah. I need to finish my summer project and I haven't even started." Sam motioned with her sketch pad, waving it in the air. Freddie eyed Sam suspiciously, thinking that maybe this was just another one of her pranks. Sam could read Freddie's thoughts like a book, immediately wiping the smile from her face. "I'm serious. I really need to finish this project and both Carly and Spencer said they couldn't." Freddie pouted his lips in indecisiveness, crossing his arms and looking up towards nothing in particular, deep in thought. "C'mon. You said you owed me."_

Freddie heard his front door open and close abruptly, footsteps approaching his room. Sam appeared in his doorway, a large sketchpad under one arm, with a folded easel under the other. She had her usual red and black checkered backpack over her shoulder, no doubt filled with art supplies and thievery tools. Sam dropped all her belongings onto Freddie's floor, sighing exasperated as she caught her breath. "Dang, all this stuff is such a pain to lug around," Sam complained, rubbing her shoulder. She saw Freddie sitting on his bed, dumbstruck and staring. "What're you ogling at, nub?"

Freddie looked at Sam as if she didn't know. "I'm looking at _you._ What're you wearing?" Sam looked at her outfit, finding nothing unusual about it. She wore a yellow sleeveless V-neck, accenting her slim but toned arms. Along with her V-neck she wore a pair of red short shorts, which showed off her long and tan legs. Sam didn't see anything wrong with her outfit. She looked back at Freddie, confused. "Don't you think you're showing too much skin?" Freddie pointed out.

Sam cracked a smile and chortled. "Since when do you care how much skin I show? Besides, it's hot today. When I went home to grab the easel I figured I might as well change into something more comfortable."

"I guess."

Sam set up her easel and sketchpad, taking out her art supplies. She pulled Freddie's desk chair to the middle of the room, pointing for Freddie to sit in it. Freddie did as instructed, sitting still in the chair as Sam began to draw. Posing for an artist could quite possibly be the most boring thing Freddie ever had to do. He sat with a bored look on his face, staring straight at the back of Sam's easel. Every once in a while Freddie would get a glimpse of Sam peeking from behind the easel to look at Freddie, but nothing else changed. The air around them was starting to get warm, an undesirable heat circulated throughout the room.

"It's hot." Freddie complained, rising from his seat. Sam groaned in frustration as her model suddenly sprung to life.

"So open a window then, dipthong. Then get back in the chair and _stay still._" Sam grumbled, erasing a part of her drawing. Freddie once again did as he was told, sliding open a nearby window. Freddie expected his face to be met with a rush of cool air, but all that came into the room was humid Seattle air. Freddie groaned, getting even more frustrated.

"Whoa, calm down, Benson. Why don't you just take off your shirt?"

Freddie froze in place and just stared at Sam as if she had suddenly grown a turtle neck and horns. "What?" he shouted incredulously. "Take my shirt off?"

Sam just shrugged, not seeing the big deal. It's not like she told him take off his pants. Freddie continued to stare at Sam, his eyes fixed onto hers. She stared back with a "why not" expression, waiting to hear Freddie's response. When Freddie did not say or do anything, the awkward silence only getting worse, Sam stood up from her easel.  
"You want me to take off my shirt, too? So y'know, you won't be the only shirtless person in the room?" Sam questioned.

Freddie's mouth was now agape, his face turning three shades of red. "You must be joking." Sam just groaned, pulling at the bottom of her shirt. Just as she was about to pull it up over her head, Freddie swiftly grabbed Sam's wrist, stopping her. "How on earth does your idiotic little brain think that the both of us being topless will make me more comfortable than only myself being topless?"

Sam felt Freddie's strong grip on her wrist. She could tell Freddie was determined in keeping both shirts on their own bodies. Freddie's tight grip reminded Sam once again of growing boys, the puny nub she once made fun of was now older and that meant stronger- Possibly even stronger than herself.

"You're such a prude, Fredward." Sam half-whispered, half-giggled. Sam liked a challenge.

Confused by Sam's sudden flirty-sounding comment, Freddie loosened his grip around Sam's wrist, but Sam in turn grabbed Freddie's free hand and held it tight in her grip. "S-Sam? What're you doing...?"

Sam pulled Freddie closer to him, their collective body temperatures only making it hotter. "Y'know, if your mom walked in right now- She'd probably accuse you of taking advantage of me, nub." Sam joked.

Freddie caught Sam's joke, her usual banter putting him back in his comfort zone. This was a joke to her, Freddie thought—and Freddie liked to play along with jokes. "She won't be home 'til late." he whispered, through a sly smile.

"Take." Sam reached with her free hand for Freddie's shirt. "Off." She began to pull up. "Your." Freddie rested his hand on hers, assisting her with the action. "Shirt." Freddie's shirt fell to the floor, his body now exposed.

The two stood together in silence, Sam drinking in the view. She placed her hand upon Freddie's shoulder, moving downward, slowly feeling every arch and dip in his muscular frame—His shoulder blade, his pecs. She played with her fingers, twirling them around Freddie's abdomen, stopping just short of Freddie's belt. She looked up a the young man, who looked every bit as nervous as she did, waiting for the inevitable.

"Sam..." Freddie managed to mumble, his mouth going dry.

Right at that moment, Sam pushed Freddie away, moving back to her easel. "Great! Now let me finish my project."

"What?" Freddie shouted, in all his topless glory. "What the heck was that? You seduce me and the moment my shirt is off all you care about is your dumb project?"

Sam just shrugged, pulling out some colored pencils from her bag. "Yep. You got a problem with that, Benson?" Freddie just stood in awe of Sam's nonchalant attitude, mouth agape and still shirtless. "Keep your shirt _off_, Fredlumps, I like what I see."

Freddie scoffed at Sam's comment, looking over her easel. "Is Sam Puckett _flirting_ with _me, _Fredward Benson, the so-called nubbiest boy alive?"

"Yep. You got a problem with that, Benson?"


	3. Maybe

**Author's Note: Had this in my folders, didn't even realize.**

**Disclaimer: iCarly and all its characters copyrighted to Schneider's Bakery, Viacom, and Nickelodeon. **

Title: iSketched Your Life  
Chapter Three: Maybe

"What if I say that I do have a problem with it?" Freddie eyed Sam suspiciously, questioning her motives.

Sam just smirked as she sat at her easel. "Just go sit down, Frederly. I need to finish my project."

Freddie perked his eyebrow as an idea came to mind. "Can I sit on the bed?" Freddie asked, moving the desk chair out of the way and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Uh, sure, I guess."

Freddie leaned back on the bed and propped his head up with his hand. "What if I do a little pose like this?" He flexed his muscles and put on a little seductive smile.

Sam looked at the posing Freddie and it perked her interest. Was he just playing around? "Listen, Rosie- I'm don't want to paint you in a naked, seductive pose."

Freddie laughed at the film reference and got up off the bed. "I never said anything about being naked."

Sam blushed as Freddie caught her. "Err, well; You have your shirt off- You're technically half-naked!"

"Or could it possibly be that you secretly _want_ me to be naked?" Freddie teased, pushing the easel out of the way and grabbing Sam.

"W-W-What're..." Sam stuttered, but her sentence was stopped mid-sentence as Freddie locked lips with hers. Everything happened so fast. Just as Sam was about to raise her fist and punch Freddie, the urge to kiss back took over. She wrapped her arms around Freddie's sweaty body, deepening the kiss. Sam felt Freddie's strong hands around her waist, pulling her closer. All of Sam's usual defenses suddenly made themselves known to Sam and she pushed him away. Sam didn't like that Freddie was stronger than her- She wanted to be the one in control.

Freddie stared at Sam as the silence between them grew awkward. "What just happened here?" Asked Sam, obviously thrown off by the last few minutes.

"I... kissed you?" Freddie responded, as if guessing.

"_Why_ did you kiss me?" Sam stepped back from Freddie, biting her lower lip. She was unsure about pursuing things until she was certain of Freddie's intentions.

Freddie just shrugged his shoulders. "Why? You got a problem with that, Puckett? Maybe I felt like kissing you."

Sam laughed at Freddie's shadowing response. "Is Freddie Benson _flirting_ with _me,_ Samantha Puckett, the so-called blonde-headed demon?"

"Yep."  
"So what, you like... Like me?" Sam questioned.

"Maybe." Freddie grinned, leaving Sam in the dark. "Why? You like me?"

Sam decided to do the same. "I don't know; Maybe."

"So," Freddie started, moving closer to Sam. "We both _maybe_ like each other."

Sam only nodded once, her eyebrow arching as she waited for Freddie's next move and/or sentence.

"Do you... _Maybe_ wanna kiss again?"

Sam giggled, pulling Freddie closer. "Maybe."

**Author's Note: I don't plan on ending this fic. Sorry.**


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